


You can trust certain drivers

by gentleau (iwanna_seeyou_undoit)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, idk i'm kind of genuine about it actually, is this crack fic??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanna_seeyou_undoit/pseuds/gentleau
Summary: Pierre: What did you even say about charles?Dany squints at his phone.Daniil: about charles? when?Daniil: why?Pierre: look at this 😅It’s a screenshot of a Tweet. There’s a little banner at the top that tells him Charles has liked it.
Relationships: Daniil Kvyat/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 18
Kudos: 79





	You can trust certain drivers

**Author's Note:**

> This was entirely inspired by @pierregasiy who said that Charles has fic with every single other driver currently on the grid except daniil kvyat on ao3, and also a conversation i had with @shoeydaniel where i threatened to correct that oversight

Journalists seem surprised when Daniil tells them he doesn’t run into the other drivers around Monaco. For one thing, Monaco isn’t as small as everyone seems to think it is (there  _ is  _ actually more than one place to buy your groceries), and besides, most drivers who live there don’t actually  _ stay  _ there, all the time. 

It doesn’t mean they all totally ignore each other, either. He’s said hi to Nico on more than one occasion, usually while out for a jog. He’s grabbed a beer with some of the others before, as well. They just don’t make a habit out of it. It’s a recipe for awkwardness.

During the lockdown, he and Pierre had done an interview with Sky. He’d been cajoled into performing something on his guitar for them all, and then Natalie had said something about them forming a band from the current grid. 

It devolved into an argument about whether Pierre could sing or not (Dany’s opinion: he’s better than he thinks, just like he’s better than he thinks at most things. Pierre’s opinion: a voice fine for the shower and karaoke and not much else). 

Anyway, that’s besides the point. 

The point is, Daniil is doing another interview, months later, and the journalist asks if there’s any news of the F1 band. He makes a joke about not wanting to steal Lewis’ thunder, and the interviewer shrugs. 

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Who have we got? There’s you on the guitar, obviously. Charles Leclerc is pretty handy on the piano, isn’t he?”

Dany nods at them, makes sure his face looks suitably interested. 

He’s starving. He’s got a pasta salad in the fridge he can’t stop thinking about. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

“He’s always posting videos on his Instagram. You should check them out.”

Dany promises he will, knowing full well that he is lying through his teeth, and the interview wraps up, shortly afterwards. 

After lunch Daniil tools around at home, picks up a book he’s been trying to get through, puts it down again. He calls his daughter, listens to her babble at the camera. She’s getting so big.

He should fold his laundry and he could stand to vacuum the apartment, but he picks up his guitar for a little bit. He’s improved a lot since the Sky interview. Pierre has told him this many times, usually calling through the walls of their driver’s rooms with a request ‘now you’re more confident!’

He thinks, if he were the sort of person to post Instagram stories, he might upload something. Perhaps if someone was here to film him… One thing he learned from all the interviews during the lockdown was that he’s terrible at finding decent camera angles for himself.

..

Daniil doesn’t interact with a lot of drivers in the paddock. People like Pierre, like Alex, make it look easy. To have friends and conversations and joke around outside the car. It’s not that Daniil doesn’t like the other guys, it’s just that he didn’t come up with any of them in the same way they all seem to have done. He feels a little out of place, perhaps. 

Or, not even that. He likes the other guys (most of them), he just likes his own company more. 

Charles is one of the ones Daniil doesn’t have a lot to do with. He still hasn’t seen him play piano. 

Despite his close friendship with Pierre, who Daniil called every week during lockdown just to check in on him, see how he was doing alone in his Dubai hotel room, Daniil can count the amount of one-on-one conversations he has had with Charles on both hands. 

So it is unexpected, to say the least, to bump into Charles on the street outside a cafe in Monaco and be greeted, not with a cursory ‘hello how are you have a good day’, but with a barely concealed glare. 

“Kvyat.” 

“Leclerc.” Daniil throws back at him. He’s baffled. Sure, he finished above him at Imola, but that was days ago. Charles still got fifth. He’d seemed pretty content at the end of the race, from what Dany had seen. “How are you?”

“Fine. How are you?”

“I’m good…” It’s  _ awkward _ . 

“Giving any interviews?”

“Uh, not that I’m aware of…?” 

Charles has his arms crossed and his eyebrows still haven’t straightened themselves out and his shoulders are  _ so  _ tense. Daniil wants to press his hands on them, just to get them back down where they should be. “Good.”

It’s not said  _ ‘that’s good for you, glad you get a rest’  _ it’s said like  _ ‘that’s good for  _ everyone else’. 

This conversation is baffling. 

“Well,” Daniil claps his hands together, like an old man. “I’ll see you around?”

Given he never runs into Charles in Monaco, that seems unlikely. 

It looks like Charles laughs. “Yeah. I’m real predictable.”

Dany wonders about what the fuck had just happened the whole way home. 

..

He gets a text from Pierre, late at night, just before he’s going to bed. 

**Pierre: What did you even say about charles?**

Dany squints at his phone. 

_ Daniil: about charles? when? _   
_ Daniil: why? _

**Pierre: look at this 😅**

It’s a screenshot of a Tweet. There’s a little banner at the top that tells him Charles has liked it. 

There’s a link to a planetf1 article about Daniil’s overtake on Charles at Imola. Someone has commented that drivers should just keep their mouths shut if they don’t have anything good to say about their rivals,  _ ‘esp when you got a nickname like torpedo and ur rival is the tifosi golden boy’ _ . 

Daniil remembers the interview the article is about. He doesn’t remember saying anything disparaging about Charles. He texts Pierre back. 

_ Daniil: I have no idea. Have u read the article? _

**Pierre: do you think i have the time!**

Dany thinks that if he’s got enough time to scroll through Charles Leclerc’s Twitter likes, he probably does, but he doesn’t say anything. He Googles the article. 

His quote is at the end of the article. He’d been asked about his overtake on Charles after the safety car:

> _  
>  About the move on Leclerc, he said: “Sometimes you have to invent things a bit. I knew he didn’t have as much confidence as me because his tyres were colder. And I said ‘let’s see how he will react’.  
>  _
> 
> _ “I used a bit of boost and good slipstream. It was a very short slipstream but good. And then I just tried to brake a bit later than him. _
> 
> _ “I saw he braked earlier than me and I thought if I leave him enough space on the inside, I’ll make it. That’s exactly what happened. And also, you can trust certain drivers a bit with these kind of things.” _

He can’t see anything wrong with it. 

In fact, if anything, he’s praising Charles. He doesn’t exactly remember saying it like that, but if he thinks about it, he wouldn’t take it back. 

Charles  _ is  _ a trust-worthy driver. He’s not an idiot around other cars, he was certainly a less erratic driver before he got stuck behind the wheel of the Ferrari this season but that’s more about the car and less about the driver, Dany reckons. 

He closes the article. 

_ Daniil: I didn’t say anything. Said i trusted him _

**Pierre: that is not what he thinks lol** **  
** **Pierre: either he’s seeing something you aren’t or he’s misunderstood**

Daniil doesn’t want to be cruel - drivers really don’t get to Formula 1 without a decent amount of intelligence - but from his (admittedly small) knowledge of Charles, he’s pretty certain it’s the last option. 

..

He figures out that, yes, it is the last option in Turkey. 

“Can we speak?” Charles approaches Daniil after qualifying, hair plastered flat against his head and cheeks red over his mask, from the cold. He looks hopelessly endearing. 

“Of course.” Daniil shuffles over on the bed in his driver’s room. He’s got clothes and bags and exercise equipment scattered on every spare surface. The only place to sit is the bed. 

Charles takes a seat, gingerly. He clears his throat. 

“You were right, weren’t you.” 

A statement of fact. Nothing more, nothing less. Daniil hasn’t the faintest clue what he is meant to have been right about. 

He stares at Charles, hoping if he stays quiet for long enough, he’ll explain. 

“I always make mistakes.” 

Clearly Dany was wrong. Charles will just change the topic, instead. That’s fine. Daniil has plenty of practice consoling people. 

“We all make mistakes, Charles,” he tries. He gets no response, figures he may as well keep talking. “It’s wet! You still came fourth! That’s good! You still got good points…”

“Exactly.” Now Daniil is really lost. Charles has the same look on his face as he did in Monaco. “You can’t trust me to do anything right, can you?”

“Who said that?” 

It’s not unusual for team principals to get a bit shirty with their drivers, but Charles just pulled a P4 out of the ass end of his Ferrari. Daniil thinks Mattia should be cutting him a little bit of slack. Especially when it got him the narrative of Sebastian getting back on the podium. Points and a story for the media to spin into whatever golden tapestry they liked. 

Charles is properly glaring at him now. It doesn’t look scary, not exactly, not with his helmet of soaking wet hair and the line of his mask obscuring most of his face, but it’s absolutely not thematically related to the conversation Daniil thinks they’re having. 

“You said it.”

_ What _ ?

“Don’t play dumb, Daniil. You said you could trust me to fuck up and make it easy for you to get past.”

“I  _ never  _ said that.” He’d never even thought it. 

“Maybe not exactly those words…”

“Not even close to those words, mate.” Daniil is starting to feel a little angry, himself. 

“After Imola. You said you could trust certain drivers -  _ me  _ \- to let you past in the corner.”

_ Oh.  _ Daniil laughs, despite himself. “You’re an idiot.”

Charles flushes and Daniil can’t tell if it’s anger or embarrassment. “Fuck you.”

“I said it as a compliment. That I could trust you not to move into my line and block me out. That we wouldn’t crash. I trust you to be decent.”

There’s a long, awkward silence. Charles taps his fingers against his thigh. The blush has reached his ears, now. It’s definitely embarrassment. 

“Oh.” Charles mumbles. “Thank you, then.” And, after a moment, “only decent?” 

He looks at Daniil, finally, and he can see the shit-eating grin in his eyes. Daniil nods. 

“Only decent. For now. You’ll have to show I can trust you some more before that.” 

Charles’ eyes change, become almost determined. He nods, once. “Okay.” He stands to leave. “See you around.” 

..

And then he does actually see Daniil around. He sees him in the grocery store in Monaco, two days later, standing in front of a shelf of biscuits and slices, choosing between something that’s almost all caramel and something with nuts in. 

Daniil is expecting to acknowledge him and then be on his way, but Charles holds his options out in front of himself. “Have you tried these?” 

“That one,” Daniil taps the thing with nuts. “I don’t recommend it.” 

Charles puts it in his basket immediately, and flashes Daniil a sunny smile. Daniil is struck by the realisation that he knows what Charles’s smile looks like even through his mask. 

“See you.” 

..

The next time they see each other, they’re both running past each the on opposite sides of the street, and Charles nearly collides with a lamppost waving to Daniil. 

..

After that, Daniil is standing in front of his apartment on the phone to his daughter, enjoying the air and wondering if he can be bothered to go for a swim or if he’s just going to go inside and collapse on the sofa. 

He’s just about decided on a swim when there’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns around to see Charles. 

“Oh!” Charles says, immediately, as if he hadn’t noticed Dany’s hand up to the side of his head, very clearly on the phone. “Sorry! Your girlfriend?” He says it with a hint of a tease, like Dany is having a salacious phone conversation in the middle of the street. 

He takes great pleasure in informing Charles that it’s his infant daughter. 

“Ah… I should leave, then.” 

Dany shakes his head. “She’s nearly asleep, anyway.” He says his goodbyes and stuffs his phone into his pocket. “Do you want to come in?” 

..

Charles latches on to Dany’s guitar as soon as he steps into the apartment. 

“You play?” He sounds thrilled to bits. 

“Do you want to hear?” Now that Daniil has started getting compliments on his playing from people who aren’t Pierre, he feels a little more comfortable playing in front of people. 

Charles nods, and helps himself to Dany’s sofa. He has his mask hanging off one ear and Daniil wants to tell him to put it back on, but they’re far enough away from each other and Charles looks ridiculous like that, so he leaves it. Dany doesn’t want to rob himself of the sight of a dishevelled Charles Leclerc any sooner than he has to. 

“I play piano.” Charles says, when Dany finishes. 

“I know,” he responds, and watches Charles wait for a compliment before sinking into something that Daniil knows he thinks looks unconcerned. In fact, he just looks surprised and injured. “I haven’t had a chance to hear you play.”

Charles perks up, and then deflates again, very quickly, when he realises Daniil doesn’t have a piano. 

“I’ll send you a video.” 

And so they exchange phone numbers and Daniil feels how Charles’ fingertips are utterly free from the calluses on his own hands. Daniil has heard a lot about pianists' hands. He’s never really thought about them, though, before now. 

..

The video Charles sends him is beautiful. 

The camera is angled so that he can see all of Charles from the waist up to his chin. His hands are the focal point of the video, obviously, and Daniil spends much longer than is reasonable just watching them stretch and condense and trip over themselves across and up and over the keyboard. 

The third time he watches it, he can’t help but look at Charles’ chest. The shirt he’s wearing is pulled tight across his pecs and falls loose around his stomach, but when he moves to reach the end of the piano it pulls tight. 

The fabric looks soft and the crest of one of Charles’ collarbones is exposed. 

The music is beautiful, also. 

Daniil feels like the worst sort of creeper, but then another text follows the video. 

**Charles: what do you think? 😏**

_ Daniil: you are very good at it _

**Charles: i could play for you some time?**

_ Daniil: that would be nice _

And then he puts his phone down, runs the water in his shower until the bathroom fills with steam, and has a nice, long wank. 

..

They kind of evolve to texting everyday, after that. Daniil will send Charles a video, the camera flat on his bed, looking straight up at the bottom of his chin, while he picks away at something on the guitar. 

In return, Charles sends him a beautifully framed, well-lit video of his entire torso playing the piano. 

Dany mentions the difference between their cinematic skills. 

**Charles: if youre worried we could do something else**

_ Daniil: something else like what? _

His brain jumps ten steps ahead and his stomach lurches around and his  _ traitorous  _ dick takes an interest in proceedings. 

It takes a while for Charles to respond.

**Charles: you know. Something like this** **  
** **Charles: [image]**

Charles is reclining against the headboard of his bed, mid-morning Monaco sunlight streaming through his windows and obscuring half his face. He’s wearing a large white t-shirt, and with the sunlight and the purposefully aged quality of the material, Daniil can just make out one of his nipples. He’s got a pair of black sweatpants on, the waistband pulled down  _ just  _ low enough that Dany can imagine he’s not got underwear on underneath. 

A strip of golden, perfectly smooth stomach peeks out between the shirt and the sweatpants. 

Dany’s mouth is dry. 

He stares at the picture, not believing that Charles Leclerc, a man he hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to until a few weeks ago, is sending him suggestive photographs. 

He must look for too long because his phone buzzes in his hand. 

**Charles: sorry. Was that inappropriate?**

_ Daniil: no. not at all. You look nice.  _ _  
_ _ Daniil: [image] _

The photo he sends in return is nowhere near the caliber of Charles’. His apartment is on the wrong side of the building to get the sunlight Charles had, he’s still in his sleep shirt and boxers, and he’s sure the angle is still all wrong, but Charles seems satisfied with the result. 

..

They keep it up, escalating the photos they send but always keeping their clothes on. Daniil isn’t even sure what Charles wants. 

And then he corners him when Daniil is walking past the Ferrari garage. “I want to kiss you.” 

“We can’t.”

Charles rolls his eyes, presses close to Daniil, touches his forehead to Dany’s shoulder. “I  _ know _ that. I still want to, though. Do you want to?”

He sounds… nervous. He’s still got his forehead pressed against Daniil, presumably so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. 

“Yes.” 

Charles pulls back, bouncing on the soles of his feet. 

“Are you going to be alone tonight?”

Daniil doesn’t know what he’s playing at, hinting at. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen. They’re not allowed to visit each other, they’re not allowed to kiss, they shouldn’t even be standing this close. And they’ve said absolutely nothing about what they are. They’re just rivals who send each other suggestive photographs of each other that sometimes look more pornographic than if they’d been totally naked. 

“No. Just me.” 

Charles’s eyes grin. He chucks Daniil under the chin. “Don’t look so worried, Dany.” He pulls his mask off one ear so Dany can see that he’s smirking, something dangerous and cheeky at the same time. “You can  _ trust _ me.” 

..

Daniil finishes the race just behind Charles, and when he checks his phone in his hotel room he’s got a congratulations text from Charles. 

It’s followed by an image. 

Dany sits down on the side of his mattress to prepare himself. 

Charles is lying on his back against the white sheets of his hotel bed. He’s glowing. Daniil can see his face, can see all of him. The fluff of his hair where he’s rubbed his head on the pillow behind him, to the tips of his toes. He’s clearly got his phone propped up somewhere. The bedside table, perhaps?

He’s not quite naked, but he might as well be. 

Charles is wearing the smallest briefs Daniil has ever seen. His thighs are strong and warm and Daniil can imagine pressing his teeth into them, imagine the noises Charles would make. 

One arm is folded above his head, his fingers tangled in his hair. His eyes are closed. His mouth is open, bottom lip red and full and wet. 

And his other hand, his beautiful pianists’ hands, his other hand has disappeared from view, obscured under the waistband of his underwear. 

It’s obvious what he’s doing. Daniil can make out the shape of Charles’ fist under the thin material, can trace the line of his dick with his eyes. Wants to trace it with his tongue. 

He’s immediately, overwhelmingly hard. 

Charles is a picture. It’s never felt more unfair that Daniil isn’t allowed to touch. 

He taps out a question. 

_ Daniil: if i call u can i save it? _

The little notification that Charles has read his text barely pops up before Daniil’s phone is ringing and he’s scrambling to kick his shoes off and unbutton his jeans before he’s propping himself up in his own bed and looking at the flushed, blissed out expression on Charles’ face through his phone screen. 

**Author's Note:**

> [This is the article i took the quote from.](https://www.planetf1.com/news/daniil-kvyat-charles-leclerc-trust/)


End file.
